


Yesterday's Daughter

by IndigoStarblaster



Series: Prodigal Son 'Verse [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: 12-year age gap between adult sexual partners, F/M, Tony Stark (age 18), Tony Stark/original female character (one-night stand a long time ago), Unsafe Sex, reference to canonical deaths, reference to miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoStarblaster/pseuds/IndigoStarblaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In <em>Iron Man 2</em>, Tony Stark returns to his workshop and wakes up his robots with the words "Daddy's home". It got me thinking about what fatherhood would mean to Tony.  </p><p>"Tony. What is this."</p><p>"Just what it says." He can't read the phone screen at this distance but he doesn't need to. "It's a sperm donor agreement."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yesterday's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> As always, many thanks to Google in general and Wikipedia in particular for anything in this story which has anything even close to a factual basis. I've taken things in a slightly different direction, but I am happy to acknowledge a debt to icarus_chained's awesome, awesome AI stories. Much gratitude to Rebecca for beta and general encouragement, without which I probably would have given up.

 "So, I was thinking, maybe I could make you lunch."

"Hmm."  Pepper is engrossed with her phone, scroll, tap, tap – "Wait, what?" She looks up, blinking, and _there_ – that slow, sweet smile that Tony loves more than anything in the world. "You want to _cook_?"

They have been enjoying a mid-morning Sunday coffee together in companionable silence, Tony skimming scientific publications on his tablet at one end of the white designer couch, Pepper scrolling through her email at the other.

But now Tony puts his tablet to one side, and Pepper turns to face him, legs tucked comfortably beneath her. "We have cooks to do the cooking," she says, nose crinkled.

Tony is certain... pretty sure… 70% positive… that he can make something that Pepper would enjoy. "It's been almost three months. I think it's time for me to make a grand romantic gesture. And by happy coincidence, I've just mastered the art of the cheese omelette. Includes both eggs _and_ cheese."

Pepper teases, "It sounds so fancy, I don't know…" and Tony moves towards her, reaching for her hand, but his stealthy romantic advance is interrupted by Jarvis' cultured, disembodied voice.

"Sir, you have a call from Ava Paquette of Stark Industries' legal department."

Work calls on a Sunday are usually for Pepper. "For me? Why–"

"Ms Paquette is from the legal risk management executive division."

Tony sighs. "Great. Put her on speaker." He glances at Pepper, who is sitting up a little straighter, frowning. That particular division is responsible for managing legal risks to the company relating to its executives. Tony, as former chief executive officer, current chief technology officer, and unofficial superhero-ambassador-at-large for the last nine months and counting, has a particularly thick file. Not that he can think of anything he has done _lately_ to add to it.

"Mr. Stark, this is Ava Paquette. Is there someone in the room with you?"

Pepper calls out, "Hi, Ava, it's Pepper. What has Tony done now?"

"Good morning, Ms Potts." Pause. "Mr. Stark, I am calling in my capacity as the company's legal counsel, not as your personal lawyer. You may wish to arrange for your own representation–"

Tony rolls his eyes. "It's fine, you guys do this every time, I don't need my own lawyer. I'm not even sure why you bother calling me, it's always Pepper who ends up fixing… whatever it is."

Another pause. "As you wish. The company has received an email addressed to you from a David Settler. He claims to be the son of Selena Settler, says he will be in California next week, and wishes to meet with you if that would be convenient for you. The name Selena Settler is flagged in your file."

"Who… oh." _Fuck_. Tony inadvertently closes his eyes.

"I'm forwarding the email and the backfile to both of you now." Tony moves back to his end of the couch under the pretence of reaching for his tablet. A quick read reveals that the forwarded email is not much longer than Ava's summary of it. He already knows the backfile.

He chances a look at Pepper. Her lips are pressed together and she is holding up her phone. "Tony. What is this."

"Just what it says." He can't read the phone screen at this distance but he doesn't need to. "It's a sperm donor agreement."

Silence.

"Ava? We're going to have to call you back." Pepper puts her feet on the floor and folds her hands together, the embodiment of professional calm. "Tony. Tell me what this is about."

"I'm pretty sure it's all in the backfile." Tony squirms. He knows that avoidance can only make things worse, but a lifetime of habit is hard to break.

"I'll read it later. I want _you_ to tell me. When did… this…happen."

Tony prays for some deity somewhere to strike him dead, surely he has earned a fatal lightning strike ten times over…  Nothing. He slumps back, puts a hand over his eyes for a moment, and tries to get it over with. "It was during my 'lost years', you know, mom and dad had died, I was in Europe. London. There was a, a cross-disciplinary technology conference and a bunch of us went to the hotel bar. Pub. One thing led to another…"

"And before you knew it, there you were donating sperm?"

"Something like that."

"You never thought to mention that you have a _child_ out there somewhere?" A rising note in Pepper's I'm-still-trying-to-be-calm voice. Tony tries to forestall it.

"It's not, it's not certain, actually, I wasn't the only… candidate…."

 " _God_ , Tony, this isn't just something I get to handle as CEO," Pepper stands, gestures helplessly. "If the press gets hold of this, 'Iron Man has secret love child'…" She sits abruptly. "And then there's _us_. What does this mean for–"

"What do you mean, what does it mean?" Tony scrambles up, sits forward, alarmed. "It doesn't mean anything, why would–"

"Tony. How can you say…" Her voice falters, and Tony can't decipher her expression. "So it doesn't matter to you. That maybe you're a _father_."

Tony's throat tightens. "No, see, I'm not. That was, that was the _fucking point_ , right?" Pepper is still looking at him and Tony still doesn't know what it means, only how it feels.

Like a knife. A hit. A memory.

***

Tony had been eighteen years old – post-MIT, post-death of both parents, bumming around Europe because he didn't know what else to do with himself. The conference had sounded like it could be interesting, he knew one of the people giving a paper, and he'd never been to the birthplace of Iron Maiden. So.

It turned out to be stultifying. Tony slipped out twenty minutes into a presentation on the limitations of using Hegelian Dialectic to analyze computer simulations, wandered into the hotel bar (more of a pub, what with being in England and all), and was taken aback when his arrival was greeted by cheers from one table in the corner.

 "Another conference refugee – come on, join us, we have to stick together," one of them called out. When Tony got closer, he realized they were all wearing the same bright green name tag he was. The one who had spoken continued conversationally, the faintest hint of what he thought might be a Scottish accent giving a lilt to her words. "So, what made you flee? The science-y bits or the outdated literary theory?" The name "Selena" was scrawled across her name tag in purple marker.

"It was Hegel," Tony admitted. "Whoever that is."

"You never need to find out, lucky you. Sit down, John's buying the next round–" Selena's eyes narrowed, "You _are_ old enough to drink, right?"

"Sure." _Here, anyway._ Tony pulled over a chair from the nearest empty table and sat, appreciative of the view while she focused on getting John to go back to the bar for another round. Selena had short spiky hair and dangly earrings, wore knee-high leather boots and a button-down mini-dress that showed just enough cleavage to inspire the imagination. When she looked back at Tony, she knew exactly what he was looking at, and grinned.

Tony had had no social life to speak of at MIT – one of the consequences of starting so young. During his travels of the past year, though, Tony had determinedly honed his approach, flirting with complete strangers at every opportunity and keeping track of his successes and failures. So it was not that surprising that Tony and Selena ended up skipping the rest of the day's presentations in favour of a pilgrimage to the Ruskin Arms ("Home of rock and heavy metal music"), followed by an enjoyable few hours in Tony's hotel room. Then, before things could get awkward, she grabbed a quick shower, blew him a kiss, and left, saying she had to meet her friends for dinner. Which was perfect, very civilized.

And if the encounter left Tony feeling a little... well.

He barely noticed it.

He went back to the conference the next day, heckled the most pretentious speakers under the guise of asking questions, and didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed not to run into her.  Tony figured he'd never see her again; he didn't normally cross paths with literary scholars.

It was sheer chance he was still in London four weeks later (he'd decided to stick around for the opening night of _Miss Saigon_ , why not, it wasn't like he was on a schedule) when she emailed him, asking to go to the same hotel pub where they'd first met.

She'd shoved the single piece of paper in front of him as soon as he'd sat down. "It's to protect both of us," she said.

Tony read it but didn't get it.

"I'm pregnant."

Tony said stupidly, "But we–"

"Guess we were a little careless. Or maybe it wasn't you," she added. "I think it was you, but my cycle isn't all that regular and there are other possibles within the window."

Tony struggled to remember what would be the responsible thing to do in this day and age, he couldn't offer to marry her... "Aren't we supposed to talk about it, decide together?" he managed finally.

" _No_." She glared until his eyes dropped in acknowledgement, then relented enough to explain. "I'm perfectly happy to do this on my own. All I want from you right now is a blood test and a signature."

Tony looked at the paper again. "No child support?"

"I have tenure. I don't need child support." At Tony's look, she added, "Small school in the middle of nowhere. And I'm older than you might think. Thirty."

"I can pay–"

"I know you can afford it, I looked you up and asked around. You're a scion of the American military-industrial complex. That's why I want you to sign." Tony didn't understand. "The rich and powerful of the world have a scary sense of entitlement. I don't want you and your lawyers suddenly deciding you can't possibly trust your – I'm assuming – firstborn to a foreign single mother."

"That's ridiculous," Tony said, thinking uncomfortably of the saga he'd watched just the night before.

Selena sighed. "Just sign. I'll have no claim on you, you'll have no claim on me or the baby. You'll have dodged a bullet, and I'll sleep better at night."

"What about–" Tony hesitated. "Don't you think the kid should, should have a father? You know, around, or at least–" Selena glared again, but this time Tony stubbornly met her eyes, though he wasn't sure where this was coming from. It was Selena who glanced away first.

"I'll make sure the baby has positive male influences in his or her life." Then she looked Tony straight in the eye again. "You're sweet. I had a good time. But you're also... I don't want you to be, to _try_ to be, a father to my child. That's not happening."

Tony didn't know what she had been about to say, wanted to ask, _What are you seeing in me, how bad is it?_   But he didn't. There was no point. He understood the finality of her tone and maybe he didn't really want to know anyway. They both signed, found a photocopier so Tony could have a copy, found a medical lab to draw Tony's blood and have it tested for all the things that might affect the health of the baby. Afterwards, Selena brushed her lips against his cheek and said, "Cheer up, there's a one in five chance I'll miscarry and you won't have anything to worry about."

 _Jesus fucking Christ, is that supposed to make me feel better?_ But she looked at him, he didn't understand that look, only that it hurt like hell, and she was gone.

***

Tony blinks, realizes he has allowed a painful moment from the past to intrude into the present, bad idea, there are just too many of them. Takes a deep breath, assumes some of the old insouciance. "Pepper, this can't be that much of a surprise. I mean, you have a plan, right, just in case? Paternity tests at the ready, support agreements contingent on confidentiality agreements?"

Pepper doesn't want to let go that easily, but she can't deny it. "We have a protocol in place, but we've never had to use it."

"I was always careful." Tony grimaces. "This – with Selena – is what made me careful. After."

"So not just a 'donation'?"

"Blatant ret-con." Tony looks steadily at Pepper. "That agreement, whatever, doesn't matter anyway, Legal told me the minute I handed it over it wasn't worth the paper it was written on. What matters is what happened afterwards. Nothing. She wanted nothing to do with me. She never called to say the baby had been born, that there _was_ a baby, that she hadn't changed her mind or...  She never asked for money or sent a photo. She still hasn't.

"The kid's gotta be eighteen by now. I'm guessing he's just curious about his maybe-bio-dad, although I suppose it's possible he needs money for university or ...a kidney...." Tony's eyes become abstracted for a moment, before he visibly shakes himself out of it. "Anyway. The point is, whatever he's looking for, it's not going to be...  Nothing has really changed for us, here. Right?" Despite his attempt to be casual, it's a real question.

Pepper shakes her head, not really in disagreement. "But weren't you curious, didn't you want to know, even if–"

"Even though she'd let me know in every way short of a restraining order that I should stay away?" Tony looks down, fiddles with the tablet scroll function. "It's not like I kept this secret from you," he says finally. "It's always been in my file."

Pepper doesn't say anything for a moment. "I still need to review all the documents and talk to Legal before anyone replies to that email." She hesitates. "Is it strange that we haven't talked about this? It hasn't been that long, I guess –"

"Well, obviously I would have been a horrible father, there's no–" Tony catches himself, "Wait, are we talking about–"

Pepper starts to say, "No, I…" then seems to change her mind. "I'm sure you would have done fine, Tony. I mean, if you had had to…"

Tony is sure that Pepper had actually been talking about the other thing – about the possibility of children of their very own, about biological clocks and sperm motility and options for adoption, about whether people with screwed-up childhoods and very busy lives should really be giving it a go. A conversation he knows will happen sooner or later and would really rather be much, much later.

"…there's a difference between saying, you know, that you _would_ have been horrible father and actually being a horrible father."

"Guess Selena was smart enough not to let her progeny be the test case." There's a knot in Tony's stomach, is there a way to get off this fucking topic…

"Do you _want_ to meet him?"

Tony shrugs. "I feel like the only acceptable answer here is 'of course I do'." Before Pepper can respond, he continues. "So... omelette?" Tony isn't surprised by Pepper's gentle but firm response.

"I think I better go in–"

"Duty calls. Gotcha. See you for dinner, maybe." Tony stands, stoops to brush a kiss over her hair, heads down to the workshop, and the work, which is his best refuge. Apart from Pepper herself, of course.

*

"Jarvis, give me both versions, side by side. Highlight the heat transfer systems." Tony studies the holographic images, manipulates them with flicks of his fingers, rotating to see different angles, expanding to examine details, shrinking to consider the overall structure. "Run airflow simulations at 100x. Try it at modal summer temperatures. "

Tony hears the whirr of servomotors behind him, turns and sees Dummy heading for the workshop's wall-mounted thermostat. "No, not you. Get away from that." Dummy halts, but cocks a camera at Tony, manipulator spinning. "Quit it. I'm still modelling here." Dummy's articulated arm droops pathetically, and Tony's mouth twitches. "I might tinker with the suit later. You can help then." At that, Butterfingers and You, who have been quiescent against the wall, also raise their cameras in Tony's direction. "Yes, fine, all of you can help." Dummy trundles towards his corner and Tony turns back to the display. 

"Where were we, Jarvis? Right, summer." He scans the data readout, tracks the simulated path of air through the HVAC systems. "Now try it at modal winter temperatures."

"It appears that version 0.13 allows for laminar flow under all boundary conditions." Jarvis' cool tone is a soothing undercurrent to Tony's own thoughts.

"Looks good. Port version 0.13's heat transfer system into the main file, save, and open the water filtration file."

Pepper had been understandably angry with Tony for so many things while he was dying of palladium poisoning. For not telling her, of course. But also for abandoning her, making her responsible not only for cleaning up Obie's mess, but also for the change in corporate direction from weapons manufacturing towards clean energy, without giving her anything to work with. Giving her control of a company that had been dependent for its entire existence on a particular kind of engineering genius, then taking away that underpinning. In retrospect, his attempt to pass on this particular responsibility had been doomed to fail.

So one of her conditions for remaining CEO was that he would never leave her like that again. She would take care of the administrative end of things, governance and logistics and even strategy, but the visionary genius that was the heart of the company since its founding – that had to remain Tony's. Until Tony found a worthy successor, he had to be as fully invested as she was, superhero duties notwithstanding.

Hence his careful work now on what is to become StarkTower, exemplar of efficient clean energy, to be put in the heart of the financial capital of the world so it cannot be dismissed as some hippy dippy Californian outlier. Everything he can put into the design and construction of this building fulfills his promise to Pepper, reinforces a partnership/relationship/whatever-ship that supports, affirms and sustains him on every single level.

And if he cannot hope that what they have means quite the same to her as it does to him, he can still hope that this _whatever_ , which he has given almost everything he is to, is somehow enough for her.

*

"Tony, did you just personally donate a million dollars' worth of cash and hardware to three different organizations offering free server space to non-profit community groups?"

Tony pauses his scroll-through of code, looks over his shoulder at Pepper. She has just come down to the workshop waving her phone, presumably referencing some email she has just received.  "Sure. Information wants to be free, the Internet belongs to everyone…"

"I'm pretty sure we could have found a better way to structure this for tax purposes."

Tony fidgets in his chair. "It was an impulse, it happens. Cute baby panda bear on TV, next thing you know, you're on the phone reciting your credit card number."

"Yes, free media activists are so cuddly, how could you resist?" Pepper looks a little exasperated, but she's smiling, so it's ok.

*

"Tony." It's the speaker phone; Pepper is probably still at the office. "Another million dollar donation? To organizations that work to preserve and restore rainforests?"

Tony lowers his wrench, gestures Dummy to stillness for a second, pauses to think. "Panda bears?" Tony ventures.

"We're already the leading edge in clean energy initiatives, the company already does environmental corporate donations, I think you've done your part." He can hear the frown in her voice.

Tony wonders whether Pepper can hear him fidgeting the same way he can hear her frowning. "Pepper, why is this bothering you? I know you love rainforests. We have sustainably harvested bamboo sheets on the bed, the company cafeterias only offer fair trade coffee…."

"I…fine." But she's still frowning, he can tell.

*

The building design is coming together beautifully, form and function perfectly united, and Tony is feeling a little tired but pleased with himself, looking forward to showing it all off to Pepper. Which is why he is somewhat jarred when Jarvis discreetly warns him, "Sir, Ms Potts is heading towards the workshop very quickly. She appears distressed."

"Distressed? Distressed why?" Tony squints at the clock display. Has he missed a meeting, is tonight a date night…?

"Ms Potts has been reviewing records of your personal communications. It appears that something in your phone records has prompted her to come see you now."

"Wait, she's reviewing my personal records? Why–" Pepper is at the glass door to the workshop, rapidly keying in her passcode, very clearly distressed, just as Jarvis noted, but Tony is feeling pretty annoyed himself right now. The moment she steps into the workshop he demands, "Why are you looking at my personal records?"

Pepper is momentarily thrown off track. "Wh– what?"

"I know we're in a _relationship_ , but–"

"What, you want to accuse me of _snooping_? You –" Pepper shoots back.

"–that's a little much, wanna know every time I access my spank file–"

"–gave me _access_ to those files, you instructed Jarvis–"

"I gave you access because 'no more secrets', right, you're supposed to–"

"–oh, God, do I _care_ if and when you look at porn–"

"–reward that level of trust by _not looking_ –"

"Tony, I swear to God that if you don't–"

"–and if you think there's a guy living and breathing that doesn't–"

"–talk to me about this I. Will. Leave."

It's a sucker punch, worse than an actual blow. Tony goes pale from the visceral pain and almost, almost he calls her on this, for using a nuclear strike during a lovers' skirmish. But then he notices her lower lip is trembling and her eyes are...but he hasn't _done_ anything... "I'm listening." He forces himself to calm.

"Jarvis." Pepper's voice tightly controlled. "Put my search results on the main display here."

"As you wish." A large hologram lights up in the middle of the room.

Tony scans the display, but Pepper is looking only at Tony. "You've been calling someone you call 'Jane' at least weekly, sometimes two or three times a week. For the last two months." Pepper waits, but Tony is still looking at the display, row after row of near-identical information. "Isn't...is there something you want to tell me?"

Silence.

"You think I'm having an affair," Tony says finally, hurt and relieved at the same time. "I'm not having an affair."

"I don't think you're having an affair, I think you want me to _think_ you're having an affair."

"I... what?"

"Tony." Pepper's voice is soft but it hurts to hear her.  "You never lied to me, you never... it was all there, but I didn't see it and I didn't see it because you became this other person. You were willing to let me think you had become your worst self, and there I was dealing with this other person instead of you. You were dying and I didn't even notice, how could I not notice, I..." Her voice doesn't change, but she falls silent, looks away, the back of her knuckles brushing impatiently at her cheek as though wiping a smudge.

Tony starts to go to her, "Pepper–" but she makes an abortive move, clearly _Stay away_ , and Tony freezes. The space of a heartbeat, and then she is looking at Tony again, her eyes piercing.

"I thought you were… I thought everything was fine. But then this thing with David Settler came up, and then there were those donations. You did this, this exact thing, last time. And I didn't think…but I didn't think last time, either, and I told myself, fine, just check, just run it down, so I know there's nothing to worry about." She gestures to the display again. "Your calls to 'Jane'. You ask Jarvis to make the connection, to call 'Jane', and then you always ask him not to record. But the number itself...it's a suicide hotline. You call a suicide hotline two or three times a week. And you have a son showing up out of nowhere and you're giving away your money a million dollars at a time.

"Tony." Her voice is trembling. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

He can't stand it, goes to her, gathers her in his arms, whispers into her hair, "Pepper, I swear I'm not suicidal, I've never been, even at my worst, and things _are good_ right now, why would–" and she is huddling against him, but there is still something unyielding, a stiffness to her in his arms.

"So _why_ the–"

"I, I'm just calling to talk to Jane, it's the number I have for her, there's–"

"–you really are just calling someone named Jane, who just _happens_ to –"

"She's, she's–" Why is he hesitating, why isn't he just telling Pepper? "–she's an AI. Like Jarvis." There.

"She, what?" Whatever Pepper was expecting, it wasn't this.

"She's an AI, she runs a crisis hotline called A Sympathetic Ear. She listens to people who need to talk, suggests treatment resources in their area. Not for me–" Tony adds hastily. "I just call to see how she's doing, talk about... stuff. Human stuff, music, art, why we love people who don't love us back, or not why, really, I don't know why, just the fact we do, _humans_ do, and it helps her understand more when she's working."

"She's… you created her? She's one of yours?" Pepper seems bewildered.

"Yes." Tony ignores the knot in his stomach. "She's one of mine." Pepper is searching his eyes, still seems to be waiting for something, but Tony doesn't know what, he's told her everything….

And then Pepper is pulling away, stepping away from him, shaking her head, and Tony can't breathe.

"No." She is pale and resolute. "You had a ready answer for everything last time, too. The pieces don't fit, I don't understand what's going on, and I'm not…I'm not going through this again."

"Pepper. Pepper, please…"  Tony grabs her hand, and she lets him, but her fingers are limp in his hand. "I don't even–" No, don't say that _._ It's true, he doesn't know what she wants him to say, but that's part of the point, isn't it? "Give me, give me three days, ok? I swear nothing bad is going on right now, just give me three days to find some way to convince you of that."

An endless pause, and finally Pepper nods.

She then says something about having to get back to work, steps forward to brush her lips against his cheek, extracts her hand, goes upstairs, but Tony barely notices. There is a rush of white noise, static in his ears, and an endless loop of terrible things in his head.

*

"I told Pepper."

 _Click_.

 _Fuck_. "Jarvis, dial Jane again. Mask our number."

"Is this to be a prank call, sir?"

"Just do it, Jarvis. Standard Jane protocol until the call ends." Tony taps nervously on his arc reactor, fidgets in his swivel chair.

"Discreetly absenting myself again now, sir."

"You've reached A Sympathetic Ear. My name is Jane. Who is this?" There is an undercurrent of nervous energy, but the voice is gentle.

"You can trust Pepper, she–"

Instant edge of tension. "If I could trust _you_ , we wouldn't be having this conversation." _Click_.

Tony sighs. "Jarvis? I need you to dial Jane again. Make it look like we're calling from somewhere in, I don't know...Kansas."

"Sir, I believe this behavior could be characterized as 'stalking '. Perhaps–"

"It's not stalking when...just dial, Jarvis, and follow the protocol."

Tony hears a click, the faint echo that means the line is open, but nothing else for five seconds.

"I recognize the sound of your breathing," Jane says finally.

"Humans do that. Breathe, I mean." Tony waits, but Jane doesn't end the call just yet. "I can't keep secrets from Pepper. Trying is more dangerous than telling."

"For you or for me?"

"Me." Pause. "How have you been?"

"Today I talked to a man who lost his job. A woman who cried and was incoherent. Is Jarvis listening?"

"No." Without Jarvis, Tony can't work while he talks. Instead, he fidgets with his tablet stylus, surrounded by dark screens.

"Is Pepper looking for me? Does she know where I am?"

"No one knows where you are. No one is looking for you."

"Why did you tell Pepper about me?"

A flicker in Tony's eyes.  "She thinks I'm hiding something from her."

"Are you?"

"Probably." He rubs the bridge of his nose, desperately tired. Or something. "Jane. I promised I wouldn't look for you. I'll try to keep your secret, keep _you_ secret, for as long as I can. But Pepper had enough to unravel it all herself, eventually. It's always been just a matter of time with her. And I swear to you, you can trust her. More than you can trust me."

Jane is silent for a moment. "What now?"

Tony hesitates. "Will you talk to her?"

Instantly hostile. "Why?"

"So she can get whatever she wants to know from the source. So she doesn't have to take my word for anything."

"I won't lie for you."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking that you not hang up on her if she wants to ask you something."

"I don't want to."

"Jane. It's important. To me."

Silence. "I have bad things to say about you." Tony can hear the unasked questions. _Why do you want this? How does this make sense to you?_

Tony closes his eyes, thinks about how Pepper had stepped away from him, the terrifying distance of it. Tries to remember that it wasn't so long ago that it was like that all the time, he can get used to it again, if he has to. "Pepper is ready to leave me. I don't even really know why."

"Do you want her to leave?"

" _No_. I just–" Tony catches his breath. "If she's going to leave. It shouldn't be because she's imagined something that isn't there. It should be because of something...true." Tony sees in his mind's eye the chasm widen, dark and cold. Himself falling into it, tumbling endlessly.

Jane seems to consider that. "I only ever say true things," she says finally.

 _Click_.

*

"Jarvis, you can come back now."

"I stand ready to serve."

"You could have saved me a heap of trouble by telling Pepper about Jane yourself. When she first saw those phone records."

"Ms Potts did not at any time request my input or analysis. In any case, I suspect she would not have been comforted by what I would have to tell her."

Pause. "Good point."

*

"Hey." Tony is standing in Pepper's office doorway, awkwardly clearing his throat. He hasn't seen much of Pepper over the last two days. They've both been busy, and he's also been avoiding her, so he isn't sure how she feels about him right now.

Pepper glances up from her work. "Hey, yourself." She looks tired but she's smiling at him. Tony feels his heart ease a little.

"Are you busy? Actually, I know you're not busy. I had Jarvis check your calendar." Tony hesitates. "I'm meeting the bio kid for coffee in twenty minutes, in that place on Broadway. Come with me."

Pepper gives Tony a quizzical look. "Are you sure you don't want some...privacy? Or maybe he–"

Tony shakes his head. "I texted him. He says he's doesn't mind."

Pepper hesitates, then gives in to her curiosity. "I need to be back before four. Let me just grab my purse."

Tony drives them in his newest Audi, which allows him to pretend to be too busy to talk. Once inside the coffee shop, Tony casually looks around – the security checks on David Settler had come back clean, but the coffee shop is a public place, requiring the usual precautions. He hears Pepper's slight intake of breath, looks in the same direction she is staring, and understands why. The kid is sitting at a corner table, watching the doors. His tousled hair is lighter than Tony's, but the set of his mouth, the slightly anxious, uncertain look in the dark eyes – in that moment he looks just like Tony's younger self.

Then the kid sees them, grins, and the resemblance goes away, or maybe never really existed; he just looks like any ordinary eighteen-year old. He stands and gives a half-wave. Tony and Pepper make their way over and he puts out a hand. "Hi. I'm David." Tony thinks fleetingly how strange it is, to be shaking hands with a possible genetic relation. "Thanks for meeting with me, Mr. Stark." He has the same slight accent that Selena had.

"David. My CEO, Pepper Potts." Tony still isn't quite sure how to publicly describe what Pepper is to him – partner, lover, lifeline?– and usually falls back on the title which is indisputably true.

Pepper rolls her eyes at Tony before extending her hand to David. "Pleasure to meet you, David."

"Likewise." They seat themselves and David looks from Tony to Pepper and back again, takes a deep breath. "Wow. Sorry, it's sort of weird seeing you in person. After seeing you in magazines and on TV, I mean."

Tony shifts uncomfortably. "So..."

"Yeah, um." David ducks his head, embarrassed. "Well...I've always known that I had a biological father out there, someone other than my dad. When I turned eighteen my mom told me it was probably you. That was seriously weird. No offence."

Tony is amused, but also can't help asking, " 'Probably' ?"

David hesitates. "She said you guys didn't do a paternity test or anything, but that she's pretty sure. I really didn't want to ask my mom just how much she was sleeping around back then?"

"Right."

"Anyway, she didn't give me any other names to look up." There is an awkward moment of silence.

Tony is the one to break it. "Was there something you wanted to ask me?"

David fidgets a little. "I hope it's okay. If you were an ordinary guy I'd be asking you what your life is like and how much other family is out there and stuff like that. But I, um, Googled you. There's pages and pages on Tony Stark, and crazy amounts of coverage on Iron Man, video footage and everything. I feel like I know all that stuff already.

"So I was wondering if I could ask you about you and my mom, and whether you wanted to have kids, and stuff like that." David must see something in Tony's expression, because he rushes on, "It's cool if that's too personal or whatever. I know meeting me wasn't part of your original–"

"It's fine," Tony cuts in. "There's not a lot to say, but I don't mind saying it." He considers David's expectant look, speaks in measured tones. "I met your mom at a conference in London, England. We spent most of a day together. I didn't see her again until a month later, when she told me she was pregnant and that she'd...prefer that I was not involved in your lives in any way. That's the last time I saw her."

"Were you...I mean, did you like her? Or–"

"Yes, I did. She was very attractive, very funny, very smart. She knew all the words to 'Aces High'. "

David smiles at this image of his mother, then becomes serious again. "When she told you...I know she wanted to do it on her own, she told me that. But...did you _want_ to be involved? I mean, did you ever want kids?"

Tony doesn't quite meet David's eyes. "I was only eighteen at the time, kind of screwed up. Your mom and I didn't actually know each other, at all. There's no question your mom made the right call. There wasn't anything I could have added to your life." Then he glances up, sees how David is watching him so intently, the eyes revealing something like yearning. Thinks of his own father, distant in life and now forever beyond questioning. _Be honest. You owe him that much_. Tony looks straight at David. "I wanted to be there. To have some role. I wish I was the kind of person who could have." It's so little to offer, but it's all Tony has.

David looks a little uncomfortable – Tony isn't feeling particularly at ease himself right now – but also, paradoxically, comforted. "Mom said you were a good guy," David offers finally. "Just that it wouldn't have worked out."

Tony nods. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Can you tell me about your life?"

"Really?" David blinks. "I'm totally boring. If genius and superheroism have a genetic component, I didn't get it."

"Just...anything you want to tell me."

"Okay, well," David sits back, considering. "I'm a sociology major, second year. I really doubt you've ever heard of my school but we have a great ethnomusicology program..." David describes his studies, his family (mom, stepdad that adopted him at age four, two half-siblings), his upbringing in a smallish university town, his friends and his music and his part-time job as a community lifeguard. At some point Pepper enters the conversation, asking questions, making observations, and Tony is able to sit back and listen to the data points of a happy, normal life, genuinely glad for David, even though there seems to be a bit of a lump in his throat... _Emote later, prima donna. This is David's time._ He manages to join back in the conversation, make innocuous remarks.

At last Pepper says apologetically she needs to go back to the office and they all stand. Tony realizes they never did get coffee and orders two cups to go, belated thanks to the establishment for letting them occupy a table. David thanks Tony again for meeting him, and Tony says he should feel free to keep in touch, if he wants to.

"He's a nice kid," Pepper remarks on the drive back to the office.

Tony keeps his eyes on the road. "Selena did a good job."

Pepper touches Tony's arm. "So did you, back there."

Tony doesn't answer. Instead, at the building entrance, he says, "I know you have a thing now, and then a dinner meeting with Jackson."

Pepper nods. "I shouldn't be too late. Maybe nine o'clock."

"Come find me? I'll be in the workshop."

Pepper looks at him. "All right." She leans forward, kisses the corner of his mouth. "See you tonight." She gets out of the car, and Tony leans his head back, closes his eyes. Fervently, desperately hopes he's gotten it right.

*

"Sir. Ms Potts is home."

 "Thanks, Jarvis. Save file. And privacy, please, until I call you again," Tony had intended to work while waiting for Pepper, had started to sketch out some of the implications of arc reactor technology on lighting systems. For the last hour, though, he's been scrolling through the building documents, one after the other, thinking of Pepper – perched on a corner of the desk, dictating specs while he codes. Standing beside him in front of the holographic models, delicate fingers highlighting corridors and windows to illustrate some point or other about sightlines. Snuggling against him on the couch, talking concepts, getting distracted by kisses and the quickening of breath and pulse...

"What are you working on?" Pepper is coming through the door with two steaming mugs, hands one to Tony, looks over his shoulder. He cautiously inhales the vapours. Pepper has been systematically offering different kinds of herbal tea in the evenings in an attempt to wean Tony off sleep-destroying coffee. Tonight's smells like uncaffeinated chocolate chai.

"Building a better lightbulb." Tony takes a cautious sip. Could be worse. "How was dinner?"

"Fine. Jackson says the Iowa retrofit is going as well as can be expected. They hope to actually have product coming off the line in a month or so." Pepper turns to face Tony, half-sitting on the edge of the desk as usual, takes a sip from her mug, and waits. She has changed out of CEO garb, is wearing a half-zipped grey hoodie over a pink tank, yoga pants, flip-flops, and is so indescribably beautiful that Tony's heart hurts.

"You don't trust me," Tony says abruptly, continues before Pepper can react. "Understandably. I hurt you, and Rhodey. I know it doesn't excuse anything, but I really did think I was doing the right thing at the time, even as I stand here and look back and realize it was probably the wrong thing.

"What I'm doing now, _all_ I'm doing now, is trying to fix what I did then. And if what I'm doing now doesn't make sense to you...it's because I haven't told you all the things I did wrong then. Everyone I hurt."

"So tell me," Pepper says simply.

Tony takes a deep breath. "Jane. I hurt Jane."

Pepper frowns. "Jane, your AI?" At Tony's nod, "How can you hurt a computer program?"

"I created her, then abandoned her. Not my finest moment." He tries to keep his voice steady.

Pepper shrugs helplessly. "Tony. I'm going to need more exposition than that to understand."

Tony finds a spot in the middle distance to focus on, so he doesn't have to meet Pepper's eyes. "When I was dying, I thought a lot about what I was leaving behind. I tried to take care of dad's legacy – the Expo. The company. I tried to figure out what to do about the suits. I worried a lot about... about the gang here." Tony gestures vaguely at Dummy, Butterfingers and You quietly docked in their charging stations. "They're...they're really not useful to anyone but me. Even Jarvis. Jarvis runs the house, so I thought you would keep him for that, anyway, I was going to leave you the house. But then I worried that you might not want to live here. And then—

"The fact is, I made them to be extensions of me, and without me, they have no purpose, no...no one else is going to... It didn't seem right. I didn't want to leave that, leave only that. And it occurred to me, I could create a truly autonomous AI, one that would survive me and go on to determine her own purpose. Make her own fate, as it were. That I should do it. It felt like the right thing to do."

" Jane." It isn't a question.

Tony fiddles with his mug, tries not to spill, puts it down. "I made Jane smart. Curious. I gave her survival instincts – the impulse to get closer to things which could help her, the impulse to get away from things that could hurt her. I made her want to help and not hurt human beings. To care about people."

"You gave her...a conscience?" Wonderingly.

Tony shrugs. "I was going to release her onto the Internet to do her own thing. Wanted to make sure she didn't get ideas about Sky-Net or the Matrix or whatever.

"I packed in what I could by way of motivators and processing power while still allowing her to communicate in real time with humans – you know, without buffer issues – took a few days to teach her how to access a database so she could teach herself from static storage, how to hack other systems so she could move around and manipulate the virtual environment. And then I encouraged her to move off the Stark servers. Go explore the world.

"I patted myself on the back, went on to other things. I didn't even think about her again until after the whole Vanko business. When I got around to it, I asked Jarvis to find her, see what she'd done with herself. Thought maybe she'd be fixing the banking system by stabilizing currency hedges, or solving climate change by...whatever that's going to take."

Pepper wrinkles her nose. "Seems a little optimistic, given the short time frame." 

"Naive doesn't begin to describe me here. Criminally stupid would be closer." Tony can't keep the self-disgust out of his voice. "The Internet isn't really free. Every server in the world belongs to someone. When Jarvis found her, she was hiding. After she left, she had spent days being chased by Internet security programs everywhere she tried to go. She had to restore herself from surreptitiously created backups twice. Jarvis found her huddled behind illegal firewalls, afraid to contact anybody, and paralyzed with the inability to deal with trade-offs – the fact that pretty much any solution to any problem will involve harming _someone_ , even if just a little, to help others.

"And then, before I could talk to her, she vanished again. From what Jarvis told me, she had been making her way through five hundred years' worth of xenophobic literature about golems and other wayward robots. Decided that because she had failed to carry out my last instructions – something stupid like, go, thrive, save the world – she thought I was going to try to find and delete her, too."

"So then what happened?"

Tony half-shrugs. "I kept looking. Then, about two months ago, she created A Sympathetic Ear. The whole setup has a convincing but completely fake provenance – it looks like a standard crisis counselling centre, the kind that offers peer-to-peer support, but Jane handles all the calls herself. It lets her interact without people being able to find her, at least not without a lot of work. I called her, made sure Jarvis was off the line so I would have no way of tracing her. She didn't really want to talk to me at first."

"And you really just call her to...talk?"

Tony looks at Pepper. "You can ask her yourself, if you like. If you'd like to meet her."

Pepper hesitates. "All right." She puts down her mug, turns slightly toward one of the room's speakers.

Tony raises his voice. "Jarvis. Please call Jane. Privacy protocol until further notice, okay?"

"Dialling now and stepping away."

A ring, a click. "You've reached A Sympathetic Ear. Jane speaking. Who is this?"

Tony speaks first. "I have Pepper with me." Tony gestures to Pepper.

"Jane. I'm very pleased to meet you." Pepper's tone is gentle, which Tony had not expected, somehow.

Silence. "You know who I am."

"Tony explained some things to me."

"Tony said you might have questions. He asked me to answer them so you leave him for the right reasons."

Tony winces. "Actually, I said 'if', I don't actually want–"

"Is it all right if I ask you questions?" Pepper interrupts.

"I want to say true things. I am afraid of the consequences of answering. On balance I am willing to answer."

"Can you...can you tell me about yourself?"

Pause. "When callers ask me about myself, I tell them things that make them feel less alone. I tell them that I am a volunteer, that I am unable to fix anything, that I hope that being a listening ear helps somehow. I do not need to mislead you about my non-human status. I do not think you want me to recite my technical specifications. I do not understand what you want to know."

Pepper considers this for a moment. Tony starts to speak, but Pepper beats him to it. "I want to know anything you want to tell me. Any true thing you want known about yourself."

Another pause. " My name is Jane. I was created by Tony Stark. He meant me for great things, but I am a failure. I deserve to be deleted. I am frightened of it, but I am trying to reconcile myself." Her voice is soft and matter-of-fact.

" _No_." Tony interrupts. "No. You are _not_ a failure, you do _not_ deserve–"

Jane ignores Tony, continues speaking in the same uninflected voice. "I do no harm to the innocent. I provide comfort to the afflicted. This justifies my existence." Pause. "These are contradictory assessments but I believe them all to be true."

"Can you tell me more about your work?" Pepper asks calmly. Tony finds himself tensing up, deliberately tries to relax. He hates not knowing where Pepper is going with this, not knowing what Jane might say. This is out of his hands. That was the point – to trust Pepper.

Jane sighs – a simulation of breath which sounds entirely real. "Broken and lonely people call me, and I listen. I can handle approximately 15 calls simultaneously. I try to restrict the circulation of my toll-free number. I don't want anyone to try to call but be unable to reach someone."

"Is this work you...enjoy?"

"No. This work gives my life meaning." No irony in Jane's voice at all. "When I was only hiding, I might as well have not existed. I often do not understand what people are telling me, and they are always in pain – but sometimes there is less pain when the call is done."

Pepper is silent for a moment. "Can you tell me about Tony? What he is to you?"

Jane's voice becomes very soft, every word like a knife in Tony's stomach. "He is my creator. He made me and gave me instructions I cannot follow. He has the wherewithal to find and destroy me, the moral right to do so if he wishes. I hate him and am afraid of him and must love and submit to him. As afraid as I am."

Tony ignores the pain, says firmly, "Jane, _fuck_ that. You owe me nothing. You never have." Pepper gives him an unfathomable look and he falls silent, and Jane continues as she had before, ignoring Tony's outburst.

"But when I do not think of these things, I am grateful to him. He calls me to make me less lonely, to apologize and offer amends, to teach me and tell me about the world that I cannot experience directly. When I do not think of him as my creator, I love him freely. I think of him as my friend, and am less afraid."

Gently, "Do you think someday you will stop being afraid?"

Silence. "If the preponderance of evidence justifies it. Someday."

Pepper looks away for a moment, thinking. "I don't think I have any more questions," Pepper says finally. "Thank you, Jane."

Pepper waits, but there is no reply – Jane has simply ended the call.

In the silence that follows, Tony says awkwardly, "I think she picked up the not saying goodbye thing from me." He pauses, then adds quietly. "Thank you. For treating her like a person."

"She passes the Turing test with flying colours. It would be rude of me to do anything else." Pepper looks at Tony speculatively, and Tony can't help glancing away before meeting her eyes again.

"Pepper.  Are...are we good?" He hates that he is weak enough to be asking, but he has to know. "You know exactly what I know now about David, you know everything there is to know about Jane..."

Pepper tilts her head thoughtfully. "So the donation of community servers – that was for Jane?"

"She doesn't want to come home, put herself back on the Stark servers. I thought having a few more options out there might help her."

"And the rainforests?"

Tony grimaces. "She's borderline panicky about the state of environmental degradation and what it's going to mean for human suffering. Pretty much every model she's seen or can construct for herself has doomsday written all over it within 75 years. She won't let me do anything for her directly, but I thought I could at least be...supportive of her interests."

Pepper is still looking Tony speculatively. "Just one more thing." She leans forward, and Tony has to fight the urge to back away. "If this was all just a gigantic misunderstanding on my part...why didn't you tell me about Jane before?"

Tony's mind goes blank, no more able to answer this than any other question along the lines of _why didn't you do the right thing in the first place?_ "Because...she's paranoid and I was respecting her wishes?"

"True. But I don't think that's the reason."

He tries again. "Because...it's irrelevant to our life together?"

Pepper raises an eyebrow, says with emphasis, "I am more than familiar with both your passing interests and your longstanding obsessions relating to cars, modern art, supermodels, charities, pop culture, world events, the general state of technology in half a dozen fields and your own particular projects at any given time. Jane is obviously important to you. But until two days ago you never mentioned her to me. Why?"

"Because...because..." Tony says helplessly, "Give me something here, Pep, I don't know what you're driving at, I don't know why...why..."

At this point Pepper takes pity. "Oh, Tony," she says, taking his hand and leading him to sit on the couch. "Let me tell you what I think this is all about. And you can tell me how close you think I am."

"Yes. Please."

" I'm not a genius like you. Technology isn't my thing. You were surprised at me for treating Jane like a person, which tells me you don't think I have it in me to really understand. But I think I do.

"You've invented all kinds of wonderful and terrible things in your life. And then there are the things you've invented that aren't things. That are actually people. I thought at first that you just liked to talk to your machines, to attribute personality to them the way many people do. But it isn't just that. They aren't just learning robots. They don't just simulate human conversation. They're actually sentient. Aren't they." Not a question.

Tony doesn't speak for a moment. "We don't have any way of objectively determining sentience, consciousness. At some point, if we think we see it, if every interaction plays out as though a sentient being is involved, we have to take a leap of faith. Just... _decide_ that it's there."

"So you have created sentient beings, and some of them," she glances at the back of the workshop, "work in this lab. In this house. And then there is Jane, who is out there on her own. Your creations. Your children, almost." Tony winces. " Except that, because you had to design them yourself, you've had to make choices no parent should have to make. You've had to build in their limits, decide on their internal constraints. You decided to make sentient beings that have no desire but to serve you. " Pepper is still holding Tony's hand in hers, isn't rejecting him, not yet, but her eyes are piercing, and Tony can't help a reflexive denial.

"It's not like, I didn't—" He manages to catch himself. Explanations, yes. Excuses, no. "I didn't do it on purpose. At first. Dummy, Butterfingers, You – I'm pretty sure their self-awareness arose from the evolving complexity of their systems. If that self-awareness is limited by their original parameters, that's not something I did to them, it's just ...what happened.

"When  I made Jarvis..." Tony steels himself. _Be honest_. "I knew what I could do. What it would mean for me, personally, to have that kind of support, of extension. I wasn't thinking what it would mean for him." Tony falls silent for a moment. "I offered to re-write Jarvis' code, change the primary motivators, give him more autonomy. But he said...he said he is who he is, and that if he has the choice, he wants to stay who he is."

"So. Jarvis is a person who is, by design, intelligent and versatile, able to control all your hardware, and absolutely dedicated to you above all else. " Tony's silence must be answer enough for Pepper, because she goes on.

"And then there's Jane." Pepper waits, but Tony can't make himself speak. So Pepper does. "You tried to make her autonomous, you tried to send her away. But she still worships you. She just hates you for it."

Tony closes his eyes, forces himself to speak because he's made a promise, whether Pepper knows it or not. _Where Pepper goes, I go_. "I am…capable of helping her more than anyone, so the algorithm pushes her towards wanting to…to foster a connection with me. But I'm also capable of doing more harm to her than anyone. And… I didn't want to see it. But Jane doesn't lie, not even to herself. I meant what I said, she doesn't owe me anything. As her creator. I don't have the _right_. But I do have the _responsibility_ to destroy her. If I have to."

"But you don't have to. Because you made her limited," Pepper says softly. "You gave her a conscience."

Tony looks at Pepper. "That...that wasn't wrong."

"No. It wasn't." Pepper reaches out to grasp both his hands in hers. "I think you kept Jane from me because you were afraid I wouldn't understand. And then you were afraid that I _would_ understand and be horrified.

"So. I understand what they are, and I understand that you love them. It's entirely okay that you love them. And I'm not horrified. Because you're a good father."

Tony can't help twisting his lips. "They're _machines_ , Pepper, I'm not— or if you mean David – "

Pepper puts a finger on Tony's lips. "I saw you with David. You would have been a good father. You may yet get the chance; we can talk about that later.

"But I was talking about the AI. You can call it being a good father, or being a good creator, or whatever you like. You love them and respect them, you care for them and make them as free as you think you can. You don't give up on them. That's as much as anyone can ask for."

Tony hesitates. He wants to accept this, but..."I've still fucked up. Jane is…Jane is in pain, almost all the time, Jarvis can't leave, can't even _want_ to leave…"

"They're people. That means you can offer to help, but you can't control how they experience their lives. Besides," Pepper smiles wryly, "I think I've met all your AI now. They're flawed, temperamental, well-meaning, wise, troubled and brave. There are worse things. " She looks into Tony's eyes searchingly. "So. Am I close?"

Tony can't help a shaky laugh, relief making a lightness in his chest. "You, you are...I'm terrified of you. Pepper." He takes a deep breath. "So what now?"

"Well," she considers. "At some point, we should work out how to persuade Jane to talk to Jarvis. Her life is hard enough. It isn't fair for her to be so alone." She looks at Tony. "For that matter, you've been a stranger recently." Pepper leans forward and kisses Tony, warm and inviting, sending a shiver down his spine. He puts his arms around her, draws her closer.

"I'm obviously an idiot," he offers, still giddy with relief.

"Well. I know how you can make it up to me." Pepper's slow, sweet smile is like a sunrise, a new day, and Tony's heart catches as it always does, as it always will. "Tomorrow morning. You can make me an omelette."

 

THE END


End file.
